


Obedience

by esstiel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: D/s relationship, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Pure Porn, biting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esstiel/pseuds/esstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt. "Cullen biting a Dorian's neck whilst pushing him against the wall :3" + "…Does this mean I can ask for what Cullen does to Dorian after the latter /doesn’t/ wait until later?" = this.</p><p>Dorian disobeys on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redluna/gifts).



> This is one prompt turning into two, turning into this monstrosity written in my askbox. Unbeta'd, written at 2AM after chugging a 20oz Mountain Dew and eating hotdogs.
> 
> First time writing from Cullen's POV too, so, yeah.

Dorian’s hips jerk; his teeth sink into his lower lip to trap a moan threatening to escape. One hand cards through curled wheat-colored hair, tugging with each hitched breath. Everything feels hot, so hot, and all that keeps his knees from giving out is the heat of Cullen’s body against his, pressing him into the bookshelf behind him.

His book lays forgotten in his chair, and a small part of him is annoyed that he wasn’t given the chance to mark his spot before being accosted and manhandled.

Cullen bites hard at the pulse in his neck. 

Dorian whines in the back of his throat, a reedy, breathless noise; he can feel Cullen smile against his skin before he finds a new patch of exposed flesh to sink his teeth into. He suckles at the skin like a newborn babe at its mother’s teet, leaving it red and inflamed, the teeth imprints already beginning to bruise.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Cullen kisses up Dorian’s neck, his jawline, then captures his lips in a searing kiss that takes his breath away. 

And then, with a smug smirk that makes Dorian’s dick twitch, he pulls away and meets Dorian’s eyes. “I have duties to attend to,” he whispers, ever aware of the people both above and below the library; his eyes flickering down to Dorian’s lips as he wets them with his tongue. “I will have to finish with you later.”

Dorian’s eyes widen, his shocked outcry muffled by another bruising kiss. His cock is so hard, desperate to be touched, and after being gnawed at for a good twenty minutes he’s not above begging.

Cullen hums in satisfaction against his lips before pulling away, nuzzling at his cheek. “Don’t touch yourself until I return,” he orders. Dorian’s stilted nod is acquiescence enough for him it seems.

As Cullen departs Dorian’s legs give out on him. He sinks to the ground, a trembling mess, limbs sprawled, trying to collect himself enough to go back to his quarters without ending up on the floor again.

He wants so acutely to palm at his erection through his pants but controls himself.

After all, Cullen will finish him later.

If he makes it until later.

 

======

 

 

There’s a knock at Cullen’s door. “Come,” he calls, signing a report and shifting it to its correct pile. He doesn’t look up as the door opens, instead taking another paper and skimming it for information. The door clicks closed.

Silence.

Cullen frowns but still doesn’t lift his gaze, marking quick notes as he speed reads. “May I help you?” he asks.

Silence.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat–half exasperation and not being answered, half annoyance at having his work interrupted–and looks up, but his snippy comment dies on the tip of his tongue when he sees who is standing in the middle of his office, head held high though his stiff stance betrays his show at confidence. Cullen’s marks are bruising nicely, stark against otherwise perfectly smooth and dark skin, a public claim of territory.

Dorian shivers under the weight of Cullen’s stare; they both know he wouldn’t be here unless he disobeyed, and the anticipation of Cullen’s reaction to disobedience leaves Dorian’s cheeks lightly flushed, jaw clenched.

Cullen continues to stare, continues to watch Dorian squirm and twitch. This is a new realm for the both of them and Dorian has been good at obedience in past situations, which make Cullen curious.

Did Dorian disobey on purpose to see the outcome?

“Lock the doors,” he says at last and Dorian practically jumps at the chance to do something, quickly locking the three doors leading to Cullen’s office. Dorian is so eager, so ready for whatever Cullen wishes to do with him. The amount of trust Dorian puts in him is both amazing and terrifying.

Dorian finishes his task and stands in the center of the room again, hands clasped behind his back. Cullen leaves him waiting again and organizes the reports on his desk into fewer piles, moving them off to the side. He clears space on the right side of his desk, all the while watching Dorian fidget. Cullen is not a man to put off a task, usually quick to do what he will with Dorian, but this time he leaves the other man hanging, unsure of what’s to come.

Cullen leans back into his chair after the long, uncomfortable silence, elbows on the arm rests, fingers laced together. “Strip.”

Dorian thinks to make a show of it, slowly undoing the knots of his top, peeling the leather from his skin; all it takes is a slight narrowing of Cullen’s eyes to give the other man a sense of urgency. The top is tossed to the floor, followed by boots, belts, then pants.

And, Maker, Dorian’s already hard again, his cock a heavy angry weight between his thighs. It twitches in the cool air, a bead of precome leaking from the head. Dorian would have come straight to his office after disobeying–it’s a show of his youth and stamina, though Cullen is a little disappointed.

It’s much more fun for the both of them when Cullen gets to start on him while he’s flaccid. Then again, this is meant to be punishment.

He beckons for Dorian with a crook of his finger, rising to his feet as Dorian comes closer. Once he’s within arms reach he takes hold of the other man, turning him and bending him over his desk slowly, positioning him just so. Cullen pushes Dorian’s legs farther apart with a knee between his thigh, places his hands on the other side of the desk, wraps his fingers around the edge for gripping.

That task done, Cullen sits back in his chair, leaving Dorian exposed and prostrate while he considers his next move. He takes the time to admire the curve of Dorian’s back, the swell of his ass Cullen is already uncomfortably hard, but this isn’t about him so he ignores that detail for now, instead slipping off his right gauntlet and glove, setting them on the desk. He opens one of the desk drawers and pulls out a small vial of oil, drips a little on the inside of his wrist to check its temperature.

It’s cool, almost cold, which is perfect for what Cullen plans next.

Carefully he lets a drop land on Dorian’s entrance. 

The way the other man jerks is so satisfying, and Cullen pauses to watch Dorian’s muscles twitch from something so cool being on such a sensitive area. Cullen waits, giving the heat from Dorian’s body the chance to warm the oil to a comfortable temperature.

Then adds another drop.

This continues until Dorian is slick from hole to balls, the oil making a mess on the stone between the mage’s feet. Idly, Cullen is grateful for the stone floor. Easier to clean up.

The sight before him has him harder than he’s been in a while, but he ignores the heat in his loins the best he can. This isn’t about him or what he wants, no matter how much he wants to sink himself into Dorian, no matter how much he wants to test the sturdiness of his desk by fucking Dorian into it. 

But instead of using his cock as he is so wont to do, he instead presses a finger into Dorian’s entrance. The mage lets out a shaky breath, toes curling, penis dripping precome to mix with the oil on the floor. Dorian’s so hard already, so far gone that it takes little more than a few crooks of Cullen’s finger to bring the other man close to the edge.

And Cullen pushes him towards it, pushes him so tantalizingly close.

Then stops.

He leaves Dorian hanging there, poised on the point of a blade, so close to teetering off. Dorian bucks his hips, lips slack. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes and his whine is so wanton, so lascivious that Cullen has to bite down on his gloved finger to keep from moaning. 

Again he probes Dorian’s hole, this time adding a second finger. Dorian’s body quivers, sweat beading on his skin as Cullen carefully coaxes him close to completion a second time, a third, a fourth, but never giving him that sweet release.

By the fifth time Dorian is a delicious mess, so carefully undone that he lays lax atop Cullen’s desk, his cock purple and swollen and abused despite not being touched once. “Please,” he begs, swallowing the drool pooling in his mouth, muscles spasming under his skin.

“No,” Cullen replies.

And this is Dorian’s chance to say his safe-word, his chance to bring this to an end. But he doesn’t take it. He simply lays there, waiting for what Cullen will do to him next and the Commander is humbled by the amount of trust it takes, the amount of trust and respect that Dorian has for him.

Cullen applies more oil to his fingers, coating them liberally.

He has a few more hours to spare.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are loved, follow me on tumblr @ esstiel for more shenanigans or to send me a prompt.


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